


and the bravest of faces

by kyasuu



Series: could i get a side of triple identity porn with that? [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, PTSD, Protective Avengers, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyasuu/pseuds/kyasuu
Summary: are the ones where we fake itin the roles that we playSet directly after "in a world so sick with pain". You could read this one on its own, but it won't make much sense without context from the previous work.





	and the bravest of faces

**Author's Note:**

> Title and part of the summary from Rise Against's "Tragedy + Time".
> 
> Sorry for the wait, guys! It's been a busy month. I'm taking part in two separate zines as an artist for both, and I actually wrote 20k words for NaNoWriMo this year.
> 
> If there's anything you feel I should tag, tell me and I'll do so!
> 
> Anyways: enjoy! The next one shouldn't take as long.

 

Clint watches as Tony slowly stirs, lashes fluttering before he actually opens his eyes. He blinks a few times, staring at the ceiling before he slowly starts to realize where he is, and a cross expression flickers over his face.

“Is this a hospital,” Tony croaks weakly. Clint slips a chip of ice into his mouth, taking pity on his cracking voice.

“Yep,” Clint answers, giving Tony’s fingers a quick squeeze before standing up to stretch. “Welcome back to the world of the living, Tony.”

“Ugh,” is Tony’s enthused response. Clint chuckles and pulls out his phone. “Okay, so the thing. With Killian.” The ice crunches between Tony’s teeth, so Clint replaces it. “Did that actually happen? Oh god.”

“It did. I’m calling the others. They’re really worried about you.”

“About Iron Man, or Antonio Carbonell?” Tony gives a wry smile. “Or Tony Stark?”

“Oh, I’m definitely most concerned about Mr. Stark. He  _ has _ been dead for… nine years now,” Clint quips. “I’m sure any trip to hell and back must be painful.”

Tony gives a low laugh in response to that. “Oh, he’s still in hell, where he belongs,” he rasps, and Clint frowns a little. At that, Tony huffs. “It was a joke, birdbrain. Lighten up.”

“You know I never find anything harshly said about you funny,” Clint replies quietly. “Especially not  _ from  _ you.”

Sighing, Tony squirms in the hospital bed. Clint shuts off his phone, having sent a mass text already, and helps him sit up. The glow of the arc reactor casts the white sheets and pillows of the hospital bed in blue, and Clint can’t help but be fascinated by it.

Tony must notice that Clint’s staring, because his face twists into a self-deprecating sort of smile. Clint hates that expression, especially on Tony’s face. It’s terribly sad that it fits him, like he’s worn it so much it it’s become a part of him. “Ugly, isn’t it,” he comments flatly, and raises a bedsheet to cover it.

“What? No,” Clint protests as he takes a seat again. “It’s cool as fuck, man. That’s the thing you started mass producing back in… fuck, 2008? Nine years ago. Green energy, man.” In an attempt to make Tony smile in amusement, he jokes, “I’m no hippie, but green energy boner alert.”

It works. Tony’s face melts into a softer, warmer expression, and Clint’s heart does something funny. “Oh jeez, that  _ was _ a long time ago,” Tony muses, rapping his fingers against the reactor.

Clint hears rapid footsteps outside the door, and it opens. Everyone else bursts in, concern evident on their faces. “You’re awake!” Steve exclaims, sounding relieved beyond measure. “You’ve been out for a day.”

Tony frowns. “Oh, that was longer than expected,” he says, his fingers still dancing over the arc reactor. “By the way, thanks for not letting anyone touch this thing.” He taps it slightly harder to emphasize his point. “I wasn’t lying when I said I ran out of power if this was pulled out. Of course, different context, but ultimately the same thing.”

Bucky shrugs awkwardly from his position in the doorway. There’s something on his face that Clint can’t read. “Well, it has to be in there for a reason, yeah? And it seems like it goes pretty deep into your chest.”

“Three inches,” Tony confirms absentmindedly. “It powers an electromagnet in my chest. There’s shrapnel constantly trying to chew its way into my heart, the electromagnet prevents it from doing so.” He shrugs like it’s just normal shit for him, like  _ oh, _ it’s totally normal to have a fucking  _ electromagnet three inches into your chest. _ “Pull it out, and I go into cardiac arrest and die in about fifteen minutes. Fun stuff.”

“Jesus,” Bruce breathes, sounding like he’s trying to calm himself.

Tony must notice the concerned looks directed towards him because he shuffles uncomfortably. “Uh, it’s better than the car battery, at least?” he offers weakly.

“Car battery,” Natasha says slowly.

“I mean, it shocked me every time they put me under water and the arc reactor doesn’t do that, I made sure of it because ouch, not like they actually did much of the water shit after I got the reactor because that was  _ after _ I pretended to agree to do it,” Tony babbles, looking anxious as he wrings the blanket between his hands. “And--”

“Stop,” Clint interrupts, voice strained, and reaches a hand out to rest on Tony’s wrist and feeling it shake beneath his fingers. “Tony. Breathe.” Tony takes in a rattling breath, and Clint can feel his pulse flutter. “Again,” he encourages, and takes a breath with him.

“Thanks,” Tony rasps after he’s regained control of his breathing, but he doesn’t look up to meet any of their gazes. He doesn’t shake off Clint’s hand, either, so he doesn’t let go. “Um. Sorry you had to see that.”

“There is no shame in it,” Thor speaks up gently, his normally booming voice softened to a level Clint hadn’t thought possible. When Clint turns to the other side of the bed, he sees Natasha’s hands clenched on the table hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. Bruce looks like he’s practicing breathing exercises. Steve’s expression is thunderous while Bucky’s is carefully schooled neutrality.

He feels the same way. Visceral anger is churning deep in his gut. Clint just wants to find whoever did this to Tony and shoot them a few times.

It’s only after Tony clears his throat awkwardly that Clint realizes that a tense silence has settled over the room. “I… should tell you the story, right?” Tony ventures, voice smaller than Clint has ever heard it.

“You don’t have an obligation to,” Natasha assures him instantly. “If you don’t want to tell us anything or answer any of our questions, you don’t have to.” She hesitates before adding, “There’s probably a reason for you not telling us… all this.” Her tone indicates that she gets it. That she’s been there before--and Clint knows she has. He has been there, too. They’re spies, after all.

“Yeah, there’s a reason,” Tony sighs, wincing slightly when he moves his shattered foot. “After the whole faking a suicide stint, only four people knew the truth about what happened. Pepper, who you’ve probably met already--a  _ fantastic _ woman and the best CEO you could ask for. Rhodey, or War Machine, and my best friend since I was fourteen. Happy, my old bodyguard and a great friend of mine… and.” Tony shifts uncomfortably. “Obadiah Stane.”

Obadiah Stane. Clint has never met him, but he’s heard of the guy. He died back in 2008, shortly after Tony made his debut as Iron Man. All SHIELD files say he was killed when someone planted a bomb in Stark Tower, but Clint gets the uncomfortable feeling that that’s a lie, especially with the way Tony’s gaze darts around the room like a scared animal.

“Stane?” Steve frowns. “The guy who Star--you worked with in the past?”

“A bit more than that,” Tony corrects. “He was… good friends with Howard. I don’t remember a time  _ without _ him, at this point.” He sounds bitter about it. “That’s why I trusted him and told him what was going on with Iron Man and me.”

Tony exhales, his hand absently tapping a disjointed rhythm on his arc reactor while the other absently tangles with Clint’s like he’s seeking comfort the best he can. Clint shuffles a little closer and squeezes gently. “He… he paralyzed me with one of my old weapons,” he continues hoarsely. “Then he pulled out the arc reactor and told me that he was the one who ordered the hit on me. He’s the reason why I was in Af… Afghanistan for three months.”

Clint hears the way Tony’s voice wavers on the word, and the rage in his stomach flares up. With more self control he thought possible, he relaxes the hand holding Tony’s to avoid crushing his hand.

“After that, I didn’t tell anyone because… because I’d known O-- _ Stane _ for my entire life. If he could betray me, then anyone could.”

_ “Fuck,” _ Bruce snarls, one hand pressed against his face and fingers digging in. “Fuck. I can’t--sorry. Just. I need to go outside. Fresh air.” His eyes are green before he closes them, inhales and exhales slowly, and strides towards the door to leave.

Tony’s gaze falls back down to his lap, looking miserable as the door slams behind Bruce. “He’s not angry at you,” Natasha murmurs, resting a hand carefully on his shoulder. “Quite the opposite, actually; he’s angry at Stane because Bruce is freakishly protective of you.” She smiles at him, soft around the edges she rarely ever is. “We all are. You have that effect on people.” Her smile turns a touch mischievous. “Especially Clint.”

Clint doesn’t blush because he’s come to terms with his less than platonic feelings a long time ago, but he does cough awkwardly. He doesn’t let go of Tony’s hand, though, letting Tony decide whether he wants to or not.

“Oh,” Tony says faintly, like he’s trying to process that information. His face is tinged pink, and Clint struggles to reconcile the image of Tony Stark the media had painted with this shy, sarcastic, and sweet coffee shop owner, and then tries to figure out how that goes with  _ Iron Man, _ a sharp-tongued, cheeky, and self-sacrificing asshole.

“Yeah,” Clint says lamely. He clears his throat and tries again. “It’s… yeah. That’s how it is.”

He hears Steve chortle, because Captain America is secretly a hypocritical asshat. “You have no right to laughing at them,” Natasha points out, tone dry as the desert. “How long did  _ you _ dance around Bucky again?”

To Clint’s immense satisfaction, Steve’s face turns cherry red and he makes a choking noise. Tony’s quiet and hesitant laugh makes it that much better. “I was recovering from brainwashing, so I think I get a pass,” Bucky pipes up to defend himself and throwing Steve to the wolves like the great boyfriend he is. “And there was that thing with Peggy so--”

Steve makes a wounded noise, and Tony seems to gain the confidence to laugh harder and louder. “Asshole,” Steve whines as Thor rumbles a short laugh, shaking his head slightly like he’s watching a group of kittens play fighting.

“I will be retrieving Doctor Banner,” Thor interrupts with a warm smile as he steps out the doorway. “Perhaps Bucky and Steve should join me.”

Oh, Clint  _ knows _ what Thor is doing. The bastard’s not even hiding it, and Bucky and Steve quickly slip out after him, leaving Clint and Tony with Natasha. “Now, you two boys can talk about your feelings,” Natasha says, grinning. Her eyes are glimmering with amusement as she heads for the door as well.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a  _ spy?” _ Tony complains loudly but without heat. “That wasn’t subtle at all! Your spy status is now revoked, Romanoff!” He doesn’t sound nearly as despondent as he had earlier, which is a huge improvement.

“You can bring that up with Fury,” Natasha calls as she shuts the door behind her, leaving Clint alone with Tony.

“Your spy status is still revoked!” Tony shouts after her. “I’m gonna ask JARVIS to do it and everything!” Natasha does not respond.

There’s a pregnant pause where the two of them just wait for Natasha to leave. Since her footsteps are utterly silent, there’s no way of telling if she’s actually left or not, but it can’t hurt to wait a few moments.

“Do we have to talk about feelings?” Tony blurts out. He then blinks, like he’s a bit surprised at his own outburst. “I mean… could we just say we talked?”

“Okay,” Clint answers simply, shrugging, and offers Tony a smile. Tony looks surprised, meeting Clint’s gaze before returning it with a small, hesitant one. He gives another light squeeze to Tony’s hand, and lets Tony decide what to do. This isn’t a conversation they can force, and Clint is patient.

Sometimes. But that’s irrelevant.

“This… this is nice,” Tony says after a long beat of silence. “What we have right now. I mean, between you and Carbonell. Not that the thing between us on the field isn’t good, because that’s great, I love verbally kicking your ass, but.” Tony grimaces, and Clint lets him finish in his own time. “God, I sound like a… a twelve year old getting their first crush. But I like you? But you knew that already didn’t you, goddammit.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Clint teases, a bit less harshly than usual because he knows Tony is vulnerable right now, both physically and emotionally. “I’ve saved your ass so many times. I’m also probably, like, half the money you earn from your coffee shop.”

Tony flushes adorably as he rolls his eyes in an attempt to look haughty. “You  _ know _ what I mean,” he huffs, settling back into the pillow again.

“Yeah, I know,” Clint hums, running a thumb over the skin of Tony’s hand. Feeling a bit giddy like he’s floating above the clouds, he says, “I like you too, Tony.”

Covering his face with a hand, Tony groans.  _ “God, _ we sound like middle schoolers,” he snorts before turning to Clint, affectionate expression more open than he’s ever seen it. Because now Clint  _ knows _ about Iron Man, about Tony Stark, and about Tony Carbonell, and he’s accepted it.

But Clint’s known this guy for nearly six years, has been in love with him for five of those years. It’ll take a bit more than this to shake that.

They don’t kiss or exchange declarations of love, but they do sit in the hospital room, holding hands and chatting to pass the time, and Clint thinks he would be content to have what they have right now for the rest of eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to yell at me on tumblr [@kyasuu!](http://kyasuu.tumblr.com)


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